


Captive

by Kimmimaru



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Beating, Blood and Violence, Gen, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Public Humiliation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 14:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmimaru/pseuds/Kimmimaru
Summary: For hurtnoctweek on tumblr: Day 1 situational promptNoctis is captured by Niflhiem.





	Captive

Crack!  
  
A sudden, violent burst of energy. He tumbles and rolls, gasping as he finally comes to a stop at Gladio's feet. He blinks up at him, wondering vaguely when he got so gods damned tall before rolling onto his side and pushing himself up onto his knees. He's breathless, the air still filled with the lingering scent of ozone from his latest attempt at a warp. Gladio says nothing as he struggles to his feet, hands shaking and knees weak. “Well, that was better.” Gladio sighs finally, holding out a half-full bottle of water which Noctis takes and downs a few gulps.

 

Noctis is seventeen, just out of school and a mess of gangly limbs from a recent growth spurt. His hair is plastered to his face in sweat, dark eyes sharp and focussed despite his irritation. “Oh yeah? Well, why don't _you_ try it?” He snaps, causing Gladio to offer him a lazy sort of smirk.

 

“I would, 'cept Crownsguard magic don't work that way, kid.”

 

Noctis mutters something under his breath before bending and picking up his dagger, it disappears in a flash of blue sparks. “'Least I didn't puke.” Noctis reminds him, smiling as he sips at his water.

 

“Yeah, that's true.” Gladio smacks him on the back, fingers squeezing his shoulder gently, “Ok, times up. I've got a big date and I bet you wanna get home and rest.” He starts towards the doors of the Crownsguard training rooms and Noctis snatches up his stuff and follows, throwing his bag over his shoulder and shoving a baseball hat on his head to act as a disguise. Gladio arches an eyebrow at him and he shrugs.

 

“Last time I went out the press caught me.” He says blandly and Gladio merely shrugs.

 

Normally Noctis would have got either Ignis or Nyx to drive him back to his apartment but it's summer and the early evening air is warm and pleasant, he could do with a walk. He knows Gladio won't tell his dad, there are some days when Noctis feels stifled in the constant presence of guards and even his friends and on days like that it is best not to argue. Noctis will do whatever Noctis wants to do; propriety be damned.

 

As he leaves the Citadel he hears someone call his name, he turns to see a member of the Kingsglaive he only knows by sight run towards him. He's kind of young, kind of pretty too with thick, dark hair and equally dark eyes. Noctis frowns a little, waiting for the guy to catch his breath, “Your highness, we've got orders to escort you back to your apartment tonight.”  
  
“But I-”

 

“His Majesty's orders, sir.”

 

Noctis frowns, the Glaive seems sincere enough and it wouldn't be nice to just run as he's tempted to do. So, Noctis shrugs, “Whatever.” He mutters and hunches his shoulders, finally walking to the door and pushing it open. The sun is setting above the city, everything is quiet and the air is fresh as it blows in off the sea. Noctis takes a deep breath, wishing that he could be alone to enjoy it but he feels the Glaive's eyes on him and sighs.  
  
The city is quiet as they stroll down the streets towards Noctis' impenetrable apartment, it's nice and Noctis feels like he can breathe again despite the presence of the Glaive at his back. His silence makes it easy enough to imagine that he's not there, for once his father was happy to allow him only one escort, which is just fine by Noctis. They turn a corner, Noctis planning on taking a short cut. There's an alley, the houses on either side empty and with 'condemned' signs sitting in their dilapidated gardens. Ordinarily Noctis would take another route but he figures that with the Glaive at his back it would be safe enough, so as evening deepens around them and shadows lengthen, Noctis follows the alley back home.  
  
If only Noctis hadn't been so complacent, if only he had had the wherewithal to not trust an unknown face, despite the uniform. If only he had been aware enough to feel the man at his back draw closer than necessary. In the last, dying rays of sunlight, Noctis sees his shadow loom up before him. He has time to widen his eyes and half-spin around, heart leaping into his throat. His dagger appears in one hand but the Glaive knocks it free, it goes skittering off to come to a halt behind a group of dumpsters. Noctis gasps, his stomach dropping as a hand clamps over his mouth while the other presses a Glaive's dagger under his chin. “Scream, little prince, and I will slit your fucking throat.” The Glaive mutters, his voice low and harsh and his pretty face twisted with hatred.

 

Noctis has never been exposed to this level of anger and rage before and it makes his stomach twist unpleasantly. He's lived his life secure in the knowledge that his power affords him some level of protection; he's too high profile to be simply snatched away. The man-hunt would be so huge none would dare. Noctis takes a deep, hitching breath, terror rendering him numb and frozen. He can't move, he can barely even breathe as the Glaive, a man he had trusted implicitly despite not knowing his name, shoves him roughly up against the dirty wall. He snatches the hat from Noctis' head, tossing it to the floor before running a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe away from his white face. “Oh the things they're gonna do to your pretty little face, highness.” He laughs, a low, deadly sound as he leans in and takes a deep breath, humming at Noctis' freshly showered scent. “You won't stay this pretty, I'm sure. Now, come with me and remember what I said about screaming. If you try an' run, I'll fucking kill you. You understand?”

 

Noctis can only nod, terrified of this man and feeling a deep, unfathomable sense of betrayal sink deep into his bones. His heart is hammering violently against his ribs, his palms sweating as they hang limply by his sides. He can't move, he can't speak. The last thing he sees before a dark hood is pulled over his face is several other dark figures emerging from a car parked not too far away.

 

XXX

 

Morning finds Ignis pulling up into the car park that serves the prince's apartment, he turns off the engine and pulls out the keys, opening the door of the sleek black vehicle and exiting. He locks the car and stuffs the keys into his pocket, juggling a stack of papers as he walks towards the elevator doors. A guard stands by, and straightens up at Ignis' approach, “M'lord.” He mutters, offering Ignis a bow.

 

“Good morning,” Ignis smiles and presses the button, listening to the lift clank as it makes it's way down to the parking lot. Finally the doors open and Ignis steps inside, hitting the button for Noctis' floor after typing in a secure code known only to those at the Citadel. The doors close and he's going up. While he waits he adjusts the papers in his arms, ensuring that they're all in order until finally the bell chimes and he steps out into the long hallway. He walks to Noctis' door and removes a keycard from his pocket, swiping it through the mechanical locking mechanism and then typing in yet another code. The door opens and Ignis steps in, removing his shoes. The apartment is silent and Ignis sighs, the prince must be asleep still despite the late hour. He goes into the living/kitchen room and looks around, noting the empty take-out cartons overflowing in the bin and the dirty plates in the sink. Ignis sets down the papers on the table and moves to start the washing up, pushing up his sleeves as he goes.   
  
When that's done and Noctis has still not come out of his room, Ignis frowns, glancing at the clock which tells him it's lunch time. Finally he goes to Noctis' bedroom door and knocks firmly, “Your highness, it's time to wake up. I brought over the latest notes from the council and you really must look through them.” He waits and hears nothing, “Noct?” Warily Ignis pushes open the door and peers in. Noctis' bedroom is a bomb site as expected; clothes strewn everywhere, books, comic books, game discs scattered all over the floor and bed. However, something inside Ignis turns cold when he realises that Noctis' bed is unslept in and that there's the total lack of the usual lump of blankets that he had expected. Ignis retreats, grabbing for his phone and hitting Gladio's number.

 

_'Yeah?'_

 

“Gladio, when was the last time you saw Noct?”

 

_'Uhh, yesterday. After we finished up training, why?'_

 

“Where did he go afterwards, did he say?”

 

_'No. Iggy, what the hell's goin' on?”_

 

“Damn it. Gladio, Noct's missing. His bed hasn't been slept in.”

 

Gladio is silent for a moment before he takes a deep breath, _'Ask the guards if they saw anything, I'm gonna tell Dad.'_

 

“Ok. I will meet you back at the Citadel.”

 

Ignis hangs up, worry sitting heavy in his gut, he runs his thumb over the screen, reaching Noctis' phone number. He hits it, holding it up to his ear as he prays silently that the prince would answer. It rings and rings and rings. Ignis hangs up, cursing furiously as he fights back panic. Noctis has never been one to simply wander off, he only went to a few places and always had someone with him. Ignis finds another, slightly less familiar number on his phone and calls it as he struggles into his jacket one-handed while it rings.

 

_'Heyaz, you've reached Prompto's phone but uh I'm not here right now! Please leave a message and I'll be sure to get back to ya when I can'_

 

“Prompto, this is Ignis Scientia, Noctis' friend from the Citadel. We have only met a few times I know but this is important; could you call me the second you get this message? There appears to be an emergency. Thank you.”

 

Ignis hangs up and runs for the door, preparing to interview the guards of the building.

 

XXX

 

Regis' lips tighten, his eyes narrowing as he listens to Ignis and Gladio explain the situation. The hand on his cane clenches and a gulf of dark worry opens up in his chest. “And you say that his old school friend, Prompto, has not seen him?”

 

“No, your majesty,” Ignis breathes, running his hand through his messy hair, “I'm afraid not. There's been no sign of him since he left the Citadel after training with Gladio. According to the guards at his apartment, he never even came home.”

 

“Where is Drautos?” Regis asks, casting his eyes to Cor and Clarus.  
  


“He was given leave. Some sort of family emergency, your majesty.” Cor replies.

 

“I was not aware that he had family?”  
  
“He has some cousins in Leide, or so I have heard. The Glaive Nyx Ulric has taken temporary command in his stead.” Clarus assures him, causing Regis to nod jerkily and frown.  
  
“This complicates matters, I was counting on Drautos to help...now...we shall have to make do,” Clarus watches the King, frowning to himself. Cor stands by the door, eyes locked on his King and the Shield as he awaits orders, finally Regis rises, “Alert the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive, I want this entire city turned upside down!”

 

“Your majesty,” Cor bows and yanks open the door, his phone already in hand while Clarus follows to alert the Glaive and issue orders. Regis watches them with an expression full of pain as he sinks slowly back into his seat, head bowed.

 

“Thank you for telling me this, you may leave and help with the search,” He mutters, exhaustion clear in the waver in his voice.

 

Ignis and Gladio bow in unison, “We will find him, your majesty; if it is the last thing we do.” Ignis assures him firmly before turning on his heel and leaving the throne room, Gladio hot on his heels.

 

XXX

 

Noctis is crammed uncomfortably into the boot of a car, his knees pressed to his chest and hands tied closely around them; trussed up like an animal waiting for slaughter. His head is still covered by the black hood, too similar to an executioners hood to be comfortable. His breathing is laboured, the cramped position doing nothing to ease the strain of his lungs as he gasps in sharp little pants of stale air, over the roar of the engine he can hear his kidnappers muttering amongst themselves, sometimes laughing and then someone speaking into what he assumes is a phone. Noctis can do nothing but wait, terrified and shaking.

 

Insomnia is a massive city, if the men intend to take him somewhere within the wall it will take people a long time to find him. He had not told anyone he would be walking home, he never told anyone which direction he would be going in. He was alone. Alone and helpless as the car swerved around corners, shaking and jerking him and causing a familiar ache to begin in his lower back. Noctis can do nothing but close his eyes and hope that they're not planning on leaving the city, because he knows, if they do he will be lost.

 

XXX

 

Ignis and Gladio search the area surrounding Noctis' apartment, a wide circle has been marked on a map for them, having been assigned a specific area along with three other people. Ignis starts off down an alley, flanked by two large houses condemned to be demolished. He doesn't expect to find anything, already shadows are growing longer and night time will force them to end the search until the next day. However, just as he passes a set of overflowing dumpsters he catches a glint of metal out the corner of his eye. Turning he sees the handle of a very familiar dagger sticking from beneath a burst open bag, rubbish spilling across the rough concrete. Ignis snatches it up, eyes widening as he inspects the inscription; the crown sigil. He turns, calling out for Gladio who comes running over.

 

“I found this,” Ignis mutters, holding out the dagger and watching the shields eyes widen, “It was under the garbage bag, see if we can't find something else.”

 

Not long after Gladio discovers Noctis' baseball hat, he brushes it off realising it still has a few dark hairs stuck to it. He silently holds it up for Ignis' inspection, “He was wearin' this when he left the Citadel.” He says tightly, mouth forming a grim line.

 

“Then there is no doubt that he was here,” Ignis lifts a trembling hand to his glasses and pushes them upward, “I believe he also attempted to fight back against his attacker but was disarmed.”

 

Gladio lets out a slow breath, stomach tight and hand trembling, “When I get my hands on those filthy-”

 

“We do not yet know for what purpose he was taken, Gladio. We must remain as calm as possible, lest we miss some vital clue.”

 

Gladio turns away, grumbling under his breath, “I'll take these to dad,” He leaves Ignis alone in the alley, missing the moment Ignis' knees grow weak and he has to clutch the wall for support.   
  
“Hold on Noct, we will find you.” Ignis mutters, eyes closing as he sends a brief prayer to the gods.   
  
XXX

 

The car eventually comes to a juddering halt, Noctis hears the men clamber out. He holds himself still, breath loud in his tiny prison as he strains his ears to catch the slightest sounds. Someone walks around the car and yanks open the boot, rough hands grab him and pull him out onto a cold, concrete floor. He grunts as he falls, hearing a low snigger as his captors stand around him.  
  
“So, this is His Royal Highness?”

 

“Yeah, kid's so gullible, man. It was too easy to get him off guard.”

 

“All you needed to do was get into the Kingsglaive,” One man laughs, Noctis hears a soft thud as if someone has hit something.

 

“Right, c'mon guys let's get the kid ready for departure.”

 

Once again Noctis is lifted, strong arms wrapped firmly around him. He realises that if he is ever going to have any chance of escaping that this is it, while these men were obviously relaxed. So he uses every last bit of his strength to jerk his entire body out of the man's grip, he hits the floor again with a much more painful thud. A grunt leaves his lips as he struggles to his feet, dizzy and muddled from hitting his head. Without thought he scrambles back, away from the voices as he lifts his bound hands to the hood over his face. He tugs it, lifting it up to reveal a huge warehouse. The car is parked not far away but there is nothing more of note. Once Noctis has his eyes free again, he turns and runs. His legs hit the concrete with such force that he can feel it jolt right up through his back, causing a pang of discomfort and stiffness. He can hear them shouting behind him, scrambling to regain their fleeing captive. Boots follow him as he runs towards the massive open doors. He can see the light, daylight by the looks of things. Without really thinking he reaches deep inside himself and feels the sudden, electrical buzz of his magic. It's easy, then, to pull the sword his father gave him from his arsenal and into his bound hands. It's awkward to run with and he's still wobbly on his legs but he manages to lift it above his head and throw it. His sword flies through the door and a split second later his entire body follows.   
  
Someone screams from behind Noct who's hand curls around his sword and he rolls over and over on impact with the dry ground outside. He gasps, stumbling clumsily to his feet and looking back over his shoulder in time to see the men pour out of the warehouse. The sun is hot on his head, burning almost as he turns and lifts his weapon again, preparing for yet another warp. Before he can move another inch however a hand encased entirely in steel clamps down on his throat. Noct's fingers release his weapon in surprise as he chokes on his breath. He's lifted right into the air and when his eyes finally focus on his new enemy he feels dread sink deep into his bones. The huge beast of a man brings back memories of burning flesh and screams of desperation, it reminds him of watching Luna's small form dwindling into the distance. It reminds him of fire and blood and pain.   
  
“You almost allowed him to escape,” General Glauca says in a voice as deep and gravelly as the pits of hell as his original captors finally catch up.

  
“S-Sorry sir, we just-”   
  
Noctis' awareness of the voices fades as his struggles weaken. He can't breathe, his throat is being crushed in Glauca's massive fist, he struggles but to no avail. He kicks out, his boot clanging off of metal and causing no damage what so ever. Glauca tightens his grip, turning his eye-less face towards the struggling prince as darkness encroaches upon his vision. Noctis lets out a choked sort of groan before everything goes dark.

 

Noctis' ascent to wakefulness isn't pleasant and isn't fast. It's like trying to swim through molasses, as each of his senses slowly come back to him. First, he hears muffled voices, then he starts to feel the cold, hard floor beneath his aching body, then he risks opening his eyes. At first the world is nothing but light, so intense that it burns. He slams his eyes shut again and manages a cracked groan that sends agony searing his throat. He coughs, sputters and manages to roll onto his side as the taste of metal and salt rise in the back of his mouth. He spits, clearing it, gasping harshly as something shifts nearby. Slowly Noctis tries to open his eyes again, this time he's squinting through the haze of light to see a vague shape of a man standing before him. The world shifts and Noctis feels himself slide unsteadily across the floor until it rights again. There's the prominent sound of a huge engine, roaring and nearly drowning out the muttered voices around him. Noctis swallows and it's so painful his eyes water, he has a vague memory of being lifted off of the ground by his throat and hopes that there had been no permanent damage.   
  
“Oh, his highness is awake.”

 

Noctis' head jerks around, sending the world spinning and black spots to appear on the edges of his vision. His head is pounding but it doesn't stop him from curling his lip back from his teeth like a feral animal as two smaller figures approach him. A hand finds his hair and his head is yanked roughly back, sending agony shooting down his spine. He winces, a rough, barely audible cry escaping his dry lips.   
  
“Huh, I thought you'd broken his neck Glauca.”

 

“Obviously not. Now, leave him alone until we reach our destination; we've been given orders that he's not to be damaged too badly.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” The man holding Noctis releases him, the floor meets with his chin painfully but Noctis is still too weak and shaky to move much. He has no idea where he is, or where he's going but he can make an educated guess; Niflheim, if Glauca's presence is any indication and when he gets there he will never see his father or friends again. Noctis lets his forehead press against the smooth metal beneath him as the transport ship jolts and shudders through the air. He feels a dread, sinking sensation as he curls his fingers into fists and bites back the urge to sob.

 

Noctis isn't sure how much time passes as he lies there, fading in and out of consciousness. It isn't until hands grab him once again that he remembers his peril and struggles weakly against thick arms and bruising fingers. His struggles do nothing so finally he falls limp in their arms as they lift him and carry him down a low ramp. The ship has docked at a sprawling concrete base, Noctis, his eyesight having restored itself on the flight, can see lines upon lines of MT's all standing perfectly still and at attention. His heart flutters, fear clinging to his mind like fog until he closes his eyes again and lets his head fall back over his captors arm. He hangs there, limp and mind in limbo, only vaguely aware of what is happening around him. The air is filled with the sound of machines, of screeching metal, the chuff of pistons and it all smells of gas and oil. Noctis is finally dropped once again to the floor, unable to catch himself his head smashes against concrete and he groans heavily.

 

“Brigadier General, what a surprising welcome.”

 

Noctis shifts, struggling to lift his head and look up as three men appear. The one in the front is short, his hair blond and falling into blue eyes. He looks down on Noctis and those eyes light up like it's his birthday come early. “Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of Lucis!” The man smirks, snapping his fingers so that the men who escorted him here pick him up by his upper arms. Noctis closes his eyes and tries to access his magic but it's like there's a wall between him and it, his hands twitch, a frown creasing his brow as soft laughter makes him open his eyes. “Your Lucian magic is useless here, your highness.” The man waves a hand vaguely to encompass the military compound. “Look at you, you're far less impressive than I expected.” He reaches out, fingers brushing Noctis' cheek, causing him to flinch back and snarl silently at him, “What ever is the matter, your highness? Cat got your tongue?”

 

“F-fuck you,” Noctis manages to croak, the pain in his throat causing him to wince.

 

“Oh, so it does speak. Well, allow me to welcome you to Aracheole Stronghold, your highness.”

 

Noctis doesn't move, remaining knelt at the young man's feet and glaring. He would speak but his throat is still raw and he dares not risk it.

 

“We will not be here for long, Tummelt. We are only pausing to refuel.” Glauca's low, deadly voice stirs more fear in Noctis' heart and he looks up at the tall, metal figure standing at his side.

 

“I see, no matter, I'm sure I'll get plenty of time with the prince when I next return home. Of course, that's assuming our beloved emperor hasn't done away with him by then.” He smirks joyfully down at the prince before addressing Glauca once again, “You're welcome to use all of our facilities until your departure.” With that the man turns away, his retinue following him. Noctis watches their figures cross the huge space and disappear between two large buildings. Then he turns back to the general who is watching him from behind his metal mask, chills crawl up Noctis' spine and he hopes that the glare he puts on his face hides his inner turmoil. He knows, deep down, that no matter how many people his father sends after him none will make it. He knows that the minute he crosses the border into Niflheim he will never again return to Lucis.

 

It is dark by the time the ship is ready to depart, Noctis has been shoved roughly into a temporary holding cell and left there. When Glauca came for him, Noctis fought but it was futile. Glauca is impossibly strong, his metal fists breaking Noctis' wrist with all the ease of a man snapping a twig. Shock mutes him, he drops to his knees, agony tearing the breath from his lungs as the world shivers and shudders around him. His stomach twists but before he can lose his meagre breakfast he is dragged to his feet and forced into a march back towards the waiting transport. He trembles as he's thrown like a rag doll back onto the ship and two silent guards take their places at his side. He curls up, face pressed into the cold metal floor as it shakes with tramping steps. He sweats, shivering violently as agony races through his arm, throbbing and forcing him to grit his teeth against a scream. He holds his arm close to his chest as the ship takes off, on it's last leg of the journey back to Niflheim.

 

Noctis must have passed out again from the pain because he comes around while being dragged by the arms down a corridor, surrounded by walls of metal. On the walls are flags of white and crimson. Noctis bows his head, staring at the floor as he's dragged over a red carpet. Finally he's dropped to his knees, he falls heavily, eyes half-lidded and his body swaying side to side. His wrist aches, his mind hazy from the pain and he knows it's swelled badly; he can feel the heat from it. A voice breaks through his daze and he finds himself blinking up at a man sat upon a metal throne. Dressed all in white, his hair wispy and his face bearded. He looks at Noctis with eyes as blue and cold as a frozen lake.   
  
“ _This_ is the crown prince of Lucis?” Emperor Aldercapt muses, his voice reedy and sly. He reminds Noctis of a white weasel. “We welcome you to our heartland; Gralea.” He sweeps one hand in a grand gesture meant to encompass the city, slowly he rises, robes swishing as he walks the short distance between them. Noctis is held still, strong hands upon his shoulders as the Emperor snatches his chin and forces their gazes to meet. “I expected more from a son of Lucis. You are little more than a jumped up runt. I am...disappointed.”

 

Noctis jerks his head back, a snarl forming on his pale face. This man had had him captured, he had brought war down upon Lucis and Tenebrae, he had seen to the murder of Lunafreya's mother and the capture of Luna and her brother. This man had orchestrated everything. Noctis draws back, his face twisted in hatred as he spits into the Emperor's face. Aldercapt jerks backwards, hissing angrily just as a huge, metal-encased fist collides with the side of Noctis' head. He falls, unable to catch himself on his broken wrist. His world goes fuzzy and grey, spinning violently until he is almost sick. He can feel blood trickle down the side of his head as he is grabbed and hauled upright again. He swallows, vomit rising to the back of his throat as his eyes roll in his head.   
  
“Ugh, vile whelp.” The Emperor's voice is warped, barely audible beneath the ringing in his ear. He uses a handkerchief handed to him by one of his retainers to wipe away Noctis' spittle. “It appears that in Lucis they raise their children as animals.” He turns his back on Noctis, walking up the small dais to seat himself back on his throne. “I should not have expected less from the spawn of Regis, who is, by all accounts, little more than a beast himself. I heard that his own wife was part dog, is that true, your highness?”

 

Noctis sways in Glauca's firm grip, unable to respond with anything but a groan. However, he can hear the soft titters of the Niflheim nobles. His head throbs in time with his heartbeat, he feels fury rise like bile in his chest, heated and fierce but it has no outlet as he can barely focus on his own irregular breathing.   
  
“Oh yes, I saw the wedding on television, she was quite the beauty.” One man said, “I wouldn't have minded bending her over a table.”

 

More laughter that made Noctis want to scream, but he was only able to grunt as Glauca kept a firm hand on his shoulder.   
  
“What was her name? Aul-Aula?”

 

“Aulea.” Another replied, “A proper bitch in heat, so I heard.”

 

“A commoner, they said. What sort of King marries a _commoner_? I dare say Regis' staff were horrified!”

 

“Filthy, if you ask me. I wouldn't touch a woman with blood like hers.”

 

“It's honestly no wonder their child turned out so weak.”

 

Noctis feels his head drop forward, darkness encroaching and he lets it come. He lets it wash out all these voices, saying terrible things about a woman he had never known and the father who had raised him with such kindness. He falls into the abyss waiting for him gladly.

 

He wakes lying on a bed, his eyesight blurred and pain throbbing throughout his entire body. He groans and turns his head but the motion sets his stomach cramping. He stills, willing the urge to vomit away before swallowing, listening to the dry click of his throat and suddenly realising how thirsty he is. Slowly his eyes focus; he is in a small cell, bars upon his door and metal walls encasing him. No windows. In one corner is a bucket which he presumes he is supposed to do his business in, he sneers weakly at the thought before focussing his attention on the other things. There is his small cot which he is lying in, hard and cold; the blankets scratching roughly at his skin. There's another bucket which looks to be filled with water and Noctis' stomach cramps with desire. He slowly starts to move, groaning with the effort and pain searing his body. He has been strangled, dropped repeatedly, slapped and had his wrist broken. All of it together makes him almost pass out again but he struggles on, moving into a position so that he can slide inelegantly from the bed. From somewhere in the back of his head he can almost hear Ignis' sigh, then his voice telling him that no prince should be seen crawling as he is. Noctis manages a weak smile before it is wiped from his face, Ignis was back at the Citadel, safe and warm and probably helping his father in the futile search for him. Noctis forces those thoughts away; he had more important things to focus on, like getting to the water and soothing the burning of his throat.   
  
Somehow he manages it. He reaches the bucket and dips his un-wounded hand in, scooping out some of the cold liquid. He sips, careful not to let too much slip between his fingers. His hand shakes violently but he focuses and manages to get a few more mouthfuls in before weakness causes him to collapse. He falls to the floor, head resting on his arm as he gazes blankly out through the bars of his cell. He shivers, the cell is cold and the blanket on his cot wouldn't keep the cold air out. He watches a guard stand stock still by his cell door, glowing red eyes fixed straight ahead and slowly Noctis slips into darkness again.

 

Noctis is woken up once again by a bucket of freezing water being tossed over him, he cries out, eyes flying open as he's snapped back to full awareness. He tries to sit up but strong hands grab hold of his upper arms, digging deep into bruises already forming. He's hauled upwards and dragged towards a large metal contraption standing against one of the bare walls of his cell. It had not been there when he'd passed out. He's pressed against it, metal digging painfully into his back as his arms are clamped into it. It resembles a cross of some kind and leaves his feet dangling above the floor, unable to hold his weight. His arms already begin to ache. He turns his head, fingers of his unbroken hand curling into a tight fist as he tries to catch whoever is in the cell with him. He can see Glauca standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him and strange glowing eye sockets fixed intently on him. Beside Glauca is another man Noctis doesn't recognise, he's tall with shoulder-length curly hair almost red in the florescent lights. He wears a hat which he tips at Noctis, as if they were strangers meeting in the street. His smirk sends a chill down the prince's spine, causing him to swallow and look away. Beside him is the MT, silent and straight-backed and before him is the Emperor himself.

 

“Is everything ready, Chancellor?” Iedolas asks quietly.

 

“I set everything up exactly how you ordered it, your majesty.”

 

“Excellent.”  
  
Noctis notices the camera for the first time, stood upon a tripod in the corner of the room. He shivers, hair damp and clinging to his face as he stares into it's single dead eye. He's been stripped down to nothing but his underpants, water trickles down his chest, soaking the cloth so it does little to hide anything. He turns back to the Emperor who's eyes travel down his body slowly, like a man would look at a racing chocobo he was intending to buy. The Emperor purses his lips, “I expected more.” He sighs, disappointment obvious, “Of course, you Caelum's are a scrawny bunch but you truly do take the cake. No better than a starved little rat.” The Emperor reaches out, pinching some of the skin on Noctis' hip, “Or a woman.” He muses to himself, eyes lingering on Noctis' crotch, causing heat to inflame his cheeks and his body to squirm under the scrutiny. The Emperor turns casually to his men, smirking, “Wouldn't he make such a pretty little girl?”

 

“Absolutely beautiful, your majesty.” The Chancellor agrees, eyes sweeping Noctis and smirk lingering on his lips, “I would like to see him in a dress.”

 

“All in good time, my man, all in good time.” Iedolas sighs, turning back to the prince, “Now, remember to smile for the camera, boy.” He mutters before stepping back. Glauca moves forward and Noctis feels something deep inside him shrivel up. He tries to shrink away as the General produces two long metal sticks attached to wires, he swallows and watches as a switch is flicked and the poles burst to life with a violent crackle. Now Noctis begins to tug against his restraints, shaking his head violently as he presses his head back against the contraption he's trapped in. He forces back a whimper when Glauca moves one of the poles close to his face, he's sure that if he wasn't wearing a mask he would have been smirking.

 

Noctis can feel his heart hammering in his chest as Glauca moves in seeming slow motion, the poles come down on his skin. His entire body tenses up, muscles spasm, his breath leaves his lungs in a cracked, broken scream. All his nerves burst into flame as the electrical current courses through his body, his teeth clench on his tongue. Blood fills his mouth but he can't spit it out. And then, as suddenly as it happened, it ends. His body goes limp, the effort of holding his head up is too much so he lets it hang as he tries to catch his breath. He can still feel his muscles twitching, his heart shuddering too violently against his ribs as he pants and gasps. Blood spills from between his lips and he can hear voices, muffled and far away as he stares down at the blurry floor.   
  
Someone wipes the blood from his chin, the gesture almost tender before something is forced roughly between his teeth. It feels like cloth. He can't focus on any faces, everything's just a blur as he once again lets his head fall forward. His reprieve is not to last, however, he hears another crackle of electricity and closes his eyes against the agony he knows is coming.

 

His screams echo oddly around the room, muffled as they are. He loses track of time, the only sense that it is passing at all is how often Glauca takes a break. By the end he's twitching, groaning and drooling into the gag between his teeth. He can't move even when a cold metal fist locks around his throat and he's pressed back against the cross at his back. Metal screws dig into his back but he barely feels that pain over the humming of electricity through his body. Glauca's face swims in and out of focus as Noctis tries to catch his breath but those fingers prevent even that as he's forced to stare into pitiless purple eyes that give him no sense of the man behind the mask.   
  
“Dear Glauca, don't you think that he's had enough for one day?”

 

Noctis flinches as Glauca turns his head to the source of the voice, smooth and oily in a way that makes Noctis' hackles rise. “The Emperor gave me leave to do what I will.”

 

“He did indeed, but he has also stated that he wants the boy alive for as long as possible.”

 

Glauca's fist tightens painfully around Noctis' delicate throat, but he has no energy to even try to fight as his lungs struggle to drag in precious air and his vision blurs and dims. Then he's released, the rag ripped from between his lips as the two men leave him to hang in his restraints. Noctis finds himself muttering into the gloom as the lights of his cell are dimmed, a desperate sob escaping as a few errant tears escape down his cheek. The MT's outside don't flinch even as Noctis mumbles nonsense, voice thick and heavy as he tries to find comfort in the sound of his own voice.

 

XXX

 

Ignis rushes down the carpeted hall way towards the council chambers, his clothes and hair in disarray. He received the call not an hour ago and had not had time to make himself appear more composed. He flies towards the double doors of the chamber, flinging them open to reveal several men sat around one end of the large table. Ignis stands there, panting and wide-eyed as he meets the King's gaze. “Your majesty, I apologise-”

 

“Not to worry, Ignis. Please, sit down.” Regis indicates the seat beside Cor's and Ignis bows before taking it. “Now, Cor, please tell us what you have.”

 

Cor wears his perpetual frown as he drums his fingers on top of a box wrapped in brown paper, he takes a slow breath and Ignis can't help but notice how tired he looks. He pushes the box forward with two fingers, “This morning we received this box, it's been scanned for any dangerous materials and we found nothing. It's addressed to you, your majesty, and the postage stamp is from Niflheim.” Cor looks at his King, eyes glimmering with something akin to pity. “No one's opened it yet.”

 

Regis stares at the small, innocuous seeming box with trepidation before reaching out with a shaking hand. He too looks beyond exhausted but Ignis can't blame him for his lack of sleep, he himself isn't getting much rest. Everyone in the room is silent as the King slowly tears open the package, frowning as he does so. The paper falls away to reveal the box, Regis stares, as if unwilling to find out what is inside before he takes a breath and pulls off the lid. Regis' frown deepens as he peers inside and pulls out a memory stick, “Ignis, your computer, please.” He asks in a weak voice so unlike the Regis Ignis has known for almost his entire life. Ignis swallows and nods, bringing up his messenger bag that he usually has slung over his shoulder and filled with things to help him take notes in emergency meetings. He opens his laptop, top of the range, and the King hands him the tiny stick. Everyone moves to crowd around, and Ignis can't help but feel trapped as he turns his laptop on and waits for it to boot up. When it has it's a small matter to push the memory stick into the right place and click.  
  
“Videos.” Cor mutters, rubbing at his bearded jaw nervously. He glances at the King who frowns at the little file in the little white box on Ignis' screen. Behind it he can see a photograph depicting Noctis, himself and Ignis relaxing in the gardens. They had been but children then, young and free and filled with laughter. Regis swallows, holding himself together with desperate fingers.

 

“Show me.” He croaks, terror fighting a war inside his chest and winning.

 

Ignis says nothing and clicks, Regis can see how pale he is in the corner of his eye and places a hand upon the boys shoulder for reassurance, not just for Ignis but for himself.

 

The video shows a small cell, metal walls and no windows. They can see a cross-like contraption right in the centre.   
  
“Noct...” Ignis' voice is hardly above a whisper but Regis can feel his shoulders tense as he puts far too much pressure on his shoulder. He should relax his grip but he's unable to as a man dressed entirely in a suit of familiar armour steps into view.

 

“Glauca,” Cor hisses, causing Clarus to nod.

 

The video has sound but it's bad quality, they can hear Noctis' rapid breaths as the huge man approaches him holding two metal poles. They can clearly see the wires leading to a battery nearby. Regis can't breathe, his chest is too tight and his heart has been swallowed by a massive black hole. He can't think as he watches Glauca touch those electrodes to Noctis' vulnerable flesh. The screams make Regis choke, he wants to turn away, to hide from his son's agony but he can't. He's trapped. Stuck watching helplessly as his very own flesh and blood makes sounds no human should ever make. Ignis flinches, baring his teeth in an unconscious snarl. His usual unflappable composure shattered as he turns away from the screen and looks down at his lap.   
  
“Ignis, you may leave if you want to.” Clarus mutters quietly, eyes as hard as diamonds and jaw clenched so tightly his teeth must ache, “If it's too hard-”

 

“No.” Ignis' voice is quiet yet firm as he finally lifts his head and meets Clarus' gaze, “No. I cannot and _will not_ allow Noct to go through this alone. Even if all I am able to do is watch from thousands of miles away then so be it.”  
  
Clarus removes his hand from Ignis, as if he had been burned and it takes a moment for Regis to realise that it is not exactly grief in the boys vivid green eyes but pure, unadulterated fury. Such a look makes his heart ache even more, that someone so young should ever know that kind of pain. Regis closes his eyes, fighting a rapidly losing battle within himself before he reaches over to pause the video. “I...I can't...” He mutters, turning away, hiding the tears already falling down his pale cheeks, “Please...”

 

“Of course your majesty, we will watch the rest alone if you-”

 

“No, I just...need a moment.” Regis walks to the large window in the room and stares blindly out of it, not seeing the beauty of the citadel nor the blue skies above but seeing only his son's face twisted in pain and covered in blood. He can only see the terrible burns covering his body where the electrodes touch his skin, he can only see the drool and blood sliding down his chin as he screams and screams. His baby boy; trapped in the hands of a deadly enemy.  
  
They stripped him down, washing him with rough, cold hands. He lies there, eyes on the ceiling as they grab and pull and pinch at his flesh. The water is soapy but cold and he shivers as he stares up at the lights. The people are dressed in drab uniforms, eyes on their task and focussed. They treat him like less than an animal, he's not given food but instead given nutrients through an IV drip. He has water and is forced to drink often, they have no desire to see him dehydrate and die before they decide to kill him.

 

After he's washed he is then shaved, Noctis doesn't protest, he doesn't have the energy but it's a strange thing for them to do. They do it without emotion, touching him as little as possible. His crotch is shaved, his legs, his arms and finally he's forced to sit up so they can take some clippers to his head. He watches numbly as his thick black hair falls into his lap and to the floor. He remembers how his father had ruffled his hair, roughened fingers twisted a little with premature age gently digging into his scalp. He remembers laughing and pushing him away, squeezing that familiar hand before letting go. A single tear slides down his face when the people around him are finished. They pack up and leave him, the lights go out not long after and plunge him into darkness.

 

Noctis lies in the darkness for an unknown amount of time. There is no guard outside his cell, no sounds other than the dull electrical hum coming from all around him. He can only see vague, shadowy outlines and a single red light from a camera in the upper right hand corner of the room. If he moves it follows him. He takes to walking around the room, limping a little as old and new injuries plague him. He learns that the room is a perfect square; a box, eventually it will become his coffin. He puts his hands on the walls, feeling them but he can't feel any weaknesses. His magic is trapped deep inside of him, with no way of escaping. He's tried numerous times to access it but nothing ever happens. A thrill of terror sweeps through him as he worries that his father has died and the enemy has somehow destroyed the crystal but that passes when he reminds himself that he wouldn't even feel the magic there if that had happened. Finally he falls back into his small, cold cot and closes his eyes, hoping sleep will take him.

 

He wakes to the sound of a blaring alarm, he jerks upright, eyes wide as he looks around himself to see that he is still in darkness. The sound echoes around his small chamber, bouncing off of walls and causing him to slap his hands to his ears as they ring. It's loud. Almost painfully so and it goes on and on and on. Noctis hopes, at first, that it's a sign that somehow someone has come for him but the longer it goes on, the more he realises this is simply some new form of torture.   
  
He can feel the sound, like a vibration deep in his chest. He grits his teeth and sits against the wall, crushing himself into a corner in the hopes that he could simply phase through it to escape the noise. It's all around him, throbbing and pulsing through his head until he's digging his nails into the skin of his temples, wanting nothing more than to rip out his own ear drums. It goes on and on and on. Soon Noctis starts to rock back and forth, hands clamped over his ears in a useless attempt to keep it at bay. He moans, the sound of his own voice inaudible over the siren.

 

Time passes like he's trapped in a dream. He has lost all sense of it, shut off from the outside world as he is. The only company he has is that siren, wailing into his ears at piercing pitch. He sits in his corner and starts to bang his head against the wall, his newly shaven scalp feeling the pain sharply without the cushion of his hair. He wants to make himself unconscious, he wants to escape this hell so he rocks and his head cracks against the metal wall over and over until blood trickles down the back of his neck.

 

He is naked, the blood has nowhere else to go but down the back of his neck to stain his skin. Finally Noctis falls over, curling up into a ball, sobbing helplessly as the sound goes on and on. It doesn't stop. It never stops. It's all he can hear, all he can feel. It's under his skin and inside his head. He's unconsciously clawing at his ears, drawing more blood but over the sound he can't even feel it. He can't sleep, yet his eyes feel so heavy, he can't drink yet his tongue is thick and rough inside his mouth. He lays there, shuddering and crying silently as the sound infuses every particle of his being.  
  
XXX

 

“They shaved him...why did they shave him?” Gladio asks, frowning in horror as the video goes on. Ignis sits at his side, shaking his head slowly. He has been asked to show Gladio the videos, despite his reservations.   
“To...to dehumanise him.” Iggy replies in a strained sort of voice, fingers tense as they curl in his lap. Gladio watches a muscle in his jaw jump as he stares blindly at the screen. “They have also stripped him. They are trying to make him feel less human, it is...easier to break people that way.”

 

“Break him?” Gladio mutters, blinking at the screen and watching a single tear drop land on the back of Noctis' mangled hand. “What for? Why're they doing this?”

 

“Because they know how much this is hurting the King.” Ignis' muttered response is almost drowned out by the sudden sound of a siren. They can no longer make out any figures as it's all gone black but the time stamp shows them how much time has been passing.   
  
“He's been gone two weeks, Iggy.” Gladio croaks, wiping a hand over his face as if he's suddenly tired. “No one's lettin' us go out and find him!”

 

“No...because we don't need to find him. We know where he is, it's just that we can't get to him. Gralea is their centre, their base of operations there's no way we will be able to infiltrate.”

 

“But...it's been done before, right? I heard that about twenty years ago a team went in and stole somethin', some kinda new technology or something...right?”

 

Ignis swallows, the sound of the siren and the black screen taking up most of his attention, “Yes...yes but that was a long time ago and it's very likely that they have improved their security since then.” He watches as the time stamp on the screen changes, this video was the longest and lasted approximately three days. Three full days of isolation, darkness and that constant siren. Noctis was in trouble, it wouldn't take much to drive a person insane with that. “We must also factor in that we would not be going after some piece of machinery but an actual, living, breathing human being who is not only a prisoner of war but the prince himself. His security is going to be much tighter.”

 

“Yeah...I know. I just-” Gladio sighs and strides across the small living room of Ignis' apartment within the citadel. He puts his hands in his hair and stares blindly out the window. “I can't stand this. Just...sittin' here, waiting...it's driving me insane.”

 

“Yes, me too.” Ignis mutters under his breath as the siren finally stops. He can now hear Noctis sobbing, pleading with some unknown, unseen entity. His heart aches, he feels so useless.

 

When the siren finally stops Noctis doesn't immediately register it. His eyelids are heavy, his tongue and throat dry. The darkness pervades his cell, the siren leaving a ringing in his head and ears. He lies limply on the freezing metal floor, shivering violently. That is when they come for him. He hears the sounds of doors opening, the beep of electronic locks and then the tramp of heavy boots. Noctis stirs, blinking sluggishly as he tries to sit up but his body is cold, his muscles cramping from keeping a squashed position for such a long time. He winces, forcing his hands beneath him, vaguely noting how the pain in his wrist is gone. He ignores the new, hideous scarring on his chest and lower belly from the electrodes and lifts his heavy head. The lights come on with a buzz, searing his eyes and causing him to cover them with his hands. The door opens and people enter his cell. He's not given time to adjust as hands grab at him and haul him to his feet. He's held still as someone tears away his underwear, his last remaining defence. Someone chuckles nearby, a hand gropes him but he doesn't have the strength to pull away. He shakes his head weakly, as metal fingers dig deep bruises into his upper arms.

 

“His highness is shy apparently,” The voice of the Chancellor seems to echo around the room as a warm finger slides down Noctis' cheek, “It is time for you to make a public appearance my dear, I'm sure you want to look your absolute best.” The Chancellor steps back and Noctis is doused in water again, somewhat warmer than before. People scrub at his skin with sponges, washing every inch of his body roughly. Noctis risks opening his eyes again, the light burning savagely and forcing a grunt from his lips as someone cleans between his legs. When he's clean again he's held upright, his head lolling as he lacks the strength to hold it up. Someone dries him quickly with a towel and he has enough presence of mind to wonder why. A hand caresses the stubble on his head, a low sigh making him shiver, “Short hair really doesn't suit you your highness, I'm sure your dear father will be quite shocked. Truthfully I advised against any such drastic actions but sometimes the Emperor simply refuses to see reason...so now, unfortunately I must follow his orders.” The Chancellor moves away and Noctis opens his eyes again, blinking rapidly as the world slowly comes back into focus. Blurry figures surround him, eyes averted as if they are too ashamed to look at him. The Chancellor stands back, watching Noctis with his intense gaze, eyes lingering on his face with something akin to hunger.

 

Then the Chancellor snaps his fingers and an MT approaches with weird, jerky movements. It passes something to him and he lifts it and shows it to Noctis. “Now, we must make sure that when you greet the public you are appropriately dressed, yes?” The man smirks deviously as Noctis jerks, attempting to get away when he realises that it's a circle of razor wire, “Now, now, my dear; fighting will only make it worse.”  
  
His captors grip his neck, holding his head still as the Chancellor places the make-shift mockery of a crown upon Noctis' head. The Chancellor presses down on it firmly, Noctis gasps as the metal bites deep into his scalp. Blood starts to fall slowly down his face as the Chancellor steps back to admire his work. “Truly a work of art my dear boy.”

 

Noctis goes limp, what little fight he had left leaves him in a shaking sigh. He's then wrapped in chains, heavy ones that drag at his wrists and legs as he's finally led out of his cell for the first time in weeks.

 

The TV is on when Ignis returns to his apartment, he sees Gladio slumped before it on his sofa with his feet on the coffee table. Ignis sighs, Gladio hasn't been spending much time at home as he should have been. “Feet down.” Ignis commands, walking past Gladio and into the kitchen to put some coffee on. He can hear the sound from the TV, some sort of popular cartoon about a marlboro. As he puts the coffee on he hears a sudden rush of static, Gladio grunting as he sits upright and starts playing around with the remote, “What's going on?”

 

“Dunno, something's interfering with the sign-”  
  
Gladio's cut off when a picture of a large crowd of people appears, all cheering as they look up at a podium, “What on Eos is happening?”

 

“Broadcast interruption...but that's not Lucis,” Gladio mutters under his breath, frowning as the crowd falls quiet and a group of people step out onto the podium. He swallows as a lump forms in his throat, his lips pulling back from his teeth as Emperor Aldercapt steps up to the mic with a serene sort of smirk on his lips.   
  
“Niflheim.” Ignis breathes, moving around the sofa to stand behind Gladio. His fingers dig deep into the cushions as several MT's move to stand behind the Emperor, between them someone kneels and Ignis feel his stomach twist unpleasantly. “This is bad...”

 

“Tell me about it,” Gladio snaps back, snatching up his phone and ringing his father, “Dad? You watchin' this?” He pauses as Aldercapt begins to address the crowd with benign pleasantries. “This isn't good, they've hijacked Lucian broadcast-Yeah, yeah I know...who's working on it? Just gotta hope the entire country isn't seeing this.”

 

Ignis' breath catches in his throat as he watches the MT's bring forth their prisoner, as he suspects it's Noctis. He's startlingly thin, skin mottled black and yellow with bruises. His body covered with badly healing scar tissue. Ignis lifts a hand to mouth, horror making it tremble as they tear off the hood from Noctis' pale face. Around his head is a crown. A metal one that shines nastily in the muted sunlight on the screen. Ignis' sight zeros in on the prince's face, the pain in his eyes, the horrendous bruising around his throat as he's forced to stand on trembling legs; naked and bleeding.   
  
“Shit.” Gladio's voice cracks and his fingers tighten on his phone, eyes wide as saucers as he watches Noctis presented to the entire city of Gralea in chains. Aldercapt is speaking again, his voice and demeanour disgustingly smug, behind him a man with a long coat and hat pulled low over his eyes is the only one seemingly unhappy with the situation.   
  
Noct trembles and shivers, teeth chattering as he blinks in the sunlight and looks out across a veritable sea of people. He's naked and vulnerable; _alone_. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, he can hear their laughter, see the scorn on the closest faces. His chest tightens, his eyes burn and he grits his teeth tightly. The blood on his face is drying, even while fresh blood continues to run down his cheek, his neck and chest as he reopens wounds caused by his razor wire crown. He turns his head and sees the Chancellor watching him from beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes in shadow and his mouth set in a grim line. He looks pissed. Then Noctis is pushed forward to the edge of the stage area, closer to the people who hate him for crimes he has never committed. He's forced to his knees before them, head pushed low so he's staring down at the wood. His arms clank with the rattle of the chains, the metal bites into his wrists like rings of ice. He shivers violently as slushy grey snow begins to fall. He wants to cry but he chokes it back, face crimson with humiliation and pain as his back is exposed to the enemy. But then something stirs inside him, something much deeper than the humiliation. Noctis can almost hear his father's voice; _walk tall, Noctis_. He takes a deep, shaking breath and slowly lets it out again. His eyes close and simply breathes, focussing on nothing else. Then he's lifted up once again and pushed roughly down a short ramp, they plan to walk him through the city streets, bound, naked, shorn. Noctis' chest tightens and he forces himself to focus on his breathing. He was a Prince of Lucis. He was destined to be King. He would not be brought low by an enemy. He reaches deep within himself and finds a well of strength he had never thought was there.  
  
His toes are numb by the time they reach the main street, the houses tall and dominating the skyline. Noctis walks with his shoulders back, eyes fixed ahead of him, despite his obvious limp. He recalls his father, his warmth and smile and he hopes he's making him proud. He's seen the cameras following him and knows this is being televised. He hopes his father sees him trying so hard to walk tall, ignoring his flushed face and rapidly beating heart. He walks on, stones and glass digging deep into the sensitive soles of his feet as he's paraded down what appears to be a main thoroughfare, feeling cold, uncaring eyes on him as people line the street to watch. Someone throws something, it hits Noctis in the side of the head, causing him to stumble; a can goes skittering across the icy road. His guards catch him and set him upright again, he shakes his head, causing the fake crown to cut more lacerations into his wounded scalp. Noctis refuses to let it show on his face, his lips turn down and he sets his jaw. He will do this. Aldercapt will never see him break.

 

Regis stares. It's all he can do as he watches people throw rotten fruit and vegetables at his son. He puts a hand over his mouth, unaware of just how much he's shaking. Clarus paces restlessly beside the seat he's on, muttering to his son who's on the other end of the phone. Eyes darting to the TV and back again. Regis feels agony in his chest mix weirdly with a sudden surge of pride as Noctis stumbles yet rights himself once again, shrugging off his guards irritably. He walks on, knees shaking, limping but eyes determined. Regis wonders if he would ever do half so well if their situation was reversed. He isn't aware he's crying until Clarus hands him a tissue, he takes it wordlessly and sits with it scrunched in his hand.

 

“It's snowing,” Ignis mutters weakly, mostly to himself as Gladio has taken to sitting in increasingly dark silence, “He'll get pneumonia.”  
  
“That's the least of our concerns, Iggy.” Gladio growls, flashing Ignis a furious look, “Look at him! Look at what they're _doing_ to him! This is...I just... _Fuck_! I can't fucking watch this!” Gladio stands and turns away, hands running through his hair and his face a picture of agony.  
  
Ignis can't tear his eyes away, even as he winces when someone in the crowd spits on Noctis' face. His hands clench into fists as he watches Noctis do little more than flinch, eyes set forward and shoulders back. He walks as if he owns the streets, head high and gaze unwavering. He walks like a true King, unaffected by his current torment. Something akin to pride wells up in Ignis' chest at that, they have not broken him; he will survive. But that warmth is short lived as the camera zooms in on Aldercapt's face, his lips drawn down in a frown of displeasure. Ignis knows that Noctis' small act of rebellion will not go unpunished.

 

Cor stands opposite his King and the Shield, arms clasped behind his back as he stares ahead at a wall. His mouth is set in a grim line as he waits for permission to speak.  
  
Regis stirs himself slowly, “You said you had an idea, Cor?”

 

“I do, your majesty...but, you may not like it.”  
  
“Explain it to me and then I will judge whether or not I like it.” Regis tries to smile but it's a weak, faint thing and slides too easily from his face.  
  
“Very well,” Cor takes a breath, “Seventeen years ago I and two other's infiltrated one of Niflhiems scientific research bases to discover the secrets of how they were producing so many MT's and perhaps gain some idea on how best to destroy them.”

 

“Yes, I remember,” Regis nods.

 

“Infiltration was easy enough, no one was expecting us and the two I had with me blended in easily with the staff. We searched the place from top to bottom and...well, we said in our report that we found nothing useful.”

 

Clarus makes a sound, as if he is about to speak but Regis holds up his hand to stop him, “Are you trying to tell me that you lied, Cor?”

 

Cor's mouth tightened and he risked glancing at his king before looking away again, his ears turned red, “Not exactly your majesty, we discovered nothing that could help us destroy the army. We could not gain access to every piece of information...however, I...I failed to report that we found something unexpected.” The silence pressed in on him and he swallowed, forcing himself to continue, “The woman I was with, a Lucian scientist, noticed a series of rooms all separated from the rest of the facility. We went to investigate and found...we found a nursery.”

 

Clarus frowned, “A nursery?”

 

“Yes sir...A nursery full of children. Babies.”

 

“...babies?” Regis' eyebrow rose, “You mean the children of the scientists...?”

 

“No, sir. They were...they were experiments.”

 

Regis gasped, “Why was this omitted from your initial report?”

 

“Because...the woman...her name was Adria...Adria Argentum.”

 

“I know that name...” Clarus mused before looking at Regis who was watching Cor with sudden understanding.

 

“That boy...are you saying...?”

 

“Yes sir...Prompto Argentum, the prince's best friend, is a Niff. More than that, he is an MT.”

 

Ignis hears the sharp words coming through the office doors before he reaches them, Clarus' angry voice easily distinguishable from the rest. He hesitates before knocking, wondering what had caused the argument until he hears Cor retaliate.

 

“I know that what I did was reckless but none of us could simply walk away and leave a baby in such a place! I refuse to regret what I did.”

 

“You endangered, not just Prince Noctis but the entire country, do you understand that? I would have expected this sort of insubordination from you in your youth, Cor, but I thought you had grown past it!”  
  
“Clarus, calm down. What is done is done, we cannot take back the past. Sit, Clarus, for the sake of the six man.”

 

“The boy has never shown any signs of being a threat, your majesty. He is a perfectly normal, healthy teenager.” Cor says stiffly, “I only brought it up now because I believe that the child is the key to gaining access to the Keep and rescuing the prince.”

 

Ignis leans closer, trying not to hope. The silence stretches on for a long time before Regis speaks again, “No.” He says finally, the rustling of cloth indicating that he is moving, “I understand why you may think that but the boy is just that, a boy. We have no right to destroy his entire world just to save my son. We will find another way.”

 

“With all due respect your majesty, the boy has a code imprinted upon his wrist. It unlocks any door inside the keep. If anyone stands any chance of getting in and out it's him. MT units are clones, they all look exactly the same, he would blend in easily; no one would ever suspect a thing. Being the prince's friend I'm certain he would want to-”

 

“You would be willing to admit the truth to him?” Regis asked, his voice low and gentle, “Cor, the boy is the same age as my son. He's lived his entire life under the illusion that he is a normal human citizen of Lucis...if you were to tell him this it could destroy him. Everything he is is a lie, everyone he knows has lied to him. If you were in his shoes, how would you feel?”

 

Cor hesitates, “I agree...but...what other choice is there? We must return the prince. If we don't they will kill him.”

 

Regis sighs, the sound so broken and weary that Ignis feels his heart go out to the man. He is the King but he is also a father who has lost his son, he has watched that son be tortured and humiliated and he knows that if they don't act soon Noctis will die. It was a great weight to carry and Ignis pitied him. He wondered about the boy they were speaking of, Noctis had few friends and Ignis knew them all. Or so he thought, was there someone Ignis didn't know of? It was possible but he didn't understand why Noctis would keep such information from him. “Very well then, we shall ask him what he wants to do.”  
  
Ignis was so absorbed in his own thoughts that when the door opened he jumped, “Ignis?” Clarus raised an eyebrow, “Are you alright?”

 

“I...yes, fine, sir. I was just here to have a word with the King, if he's not too busy that is.”

 

“We were-”

 

“Is that Ignis? Let him in Clarus, he's just the man we need.”

 

Clarus stepped aside and allowed Ignis past, closing the door once he was inside the office. Ignis bowed low to the King and then straightened, looking at him expectantly. “Your majesty, is there is anything I can do...?”

 

“There is, my boy...do you know Prompto Argentum?”

 

“Yes, your majesty, he's Noctis' friend.”

 

“Take Cor with you to his house, we need to speak with him.”

 

Ignis hesitated, eyes moving from Regis to Cor and then Clarus as everything fell into place, “Forgive me your majesty but...” He swallowed, feeling a little uncomfortable with so many eyes on him, “I happened to overhear your...discussion. Are you insinuating that Prompto is-”

 

Regis looked even more pained as he ran a hand through his grey hair, he closed his eyes briefly before nodding, “You are correct in your assumptions. I dislike using the poor boy in such a way, but if he is willing to help then I cannot allow any avenue to go unexplored. He could be the only hope Noctis has.”

 

When Prompto opens his door the very last thing he expects is to find Ignis Scientia and Cor the Immortal. He stares at them with wide eyes for a long moment before anyone speaks, “Oh-uh...hey...uhh...is...is everything alright? Have you found Noct?!” His eyes brightened at the thought, a smile lighting his face as he looked from one to the other eagerly. “Is he ok? No one's told me anything I-”

 

“Prompto,” Ignis said gravely, cutting him off, “Please, we would like it if you came with us.”

 

Prompto's face fell at the serious tone, he glanced at Cor nervously and chewed his lip, “My parents are away-”

 

“We know. Kid, get yourself some clothes and come with us.”

 

Prompto swallows, rubbing at the wrist that bears his sweatband before slowly backing up, “Sure...yeah ok...” He mutters, feeling something heavy settle into his gut, “I'll just go grab some stuff.” He turns and runs upstairs, leaving the door open.   
  
“I really don't like this,” Ignis muttered, glancing at Cor who sighs and scrubs at his hair.

 

“Yeah, neither do I. But, we don't have a choice.”

 

Prompto is taken back to the Citadel in a car, normally he would have been excited to see the place but now he only feels an ever increasing dread. He sits in the back and hugs his old school rucksack to his chest as he watches the scenery flash by. When they finally come to a stop he scrambles out and looks up the stair case to the entrance. Ignis offers him a small smile, obviously meant to be reassuring but it only makes him more queasy, he has never been to the Citadel before but now he is here he wants nothing more than to go home. Instead he forces his legs to move and follows Ignis and Cor.

 

They sit in a small office, the desk little more than a table between him and Cor. Ignis stands by the door, his uncertainty and worry obvious in the crease of his brow. Prompto fidgets, playing with the hem of his tank top as he chews on his lower lip. The silence stretches on until finally Cor breaks it with a heavy sigh. “Prompto...” He begins, running a hand down his face, “You have been made aware of our...situation?”

 

“Noct's missing.” Prompto answers, lowering his eyes, “Niflheim got to him.”  
  
“Yes and we intend to get him back.” Cor assures him, then reaches out to where a brown file sits, his fingers brush it before he pushes it across the table, “This is a file pertaining to a mission I took part in seventeen years ago, code named 'Operation Quicksilver'.” He drums his fingers on the file and Prompto sees the big red letters proclaiming it confidential, “This mission involved me and two others, we infiltrated Niflheim's number one Magitek facility in order to discover their secrets. What we found was a large-scale experiment involving the creation of super soldiers. We assumed that these soldiers were robotic in nature, we were wrong. They were growing humans, augmented humans with abilities far superior to our own.”

 

Prompto's hand clenches around his wrist, eyes wide as they fix on the file that Cor now opens. Inside are photographs of documents, written in complicated scientific jargon that goes over Prompto's head. Beyond that are images of a room full of tubes. Prompto averts his eyes but he can't help but be drawn back to the file again when Cor flips the page to reveal an image of a baby. His face is pudgy, round and he sports a shock of fine blond hair, so pale he looks bald. He's in a chamber, resembling a cot and surrounded by blankets. Prompto recognises one of those blankets and he flinches violently, pushing himself away from the image with a gasp. “Why...why're you...what's going on...?” He asks, rising and backing away, head shaking, “That's me! Why've you got a picture of me?!”

 

“Prompto-” Ignis begins, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, Prompto flinches away from him, “Please, I know this is hard but-”

 

“Prompto, that mission was undertaken by me and two others; Adria and Hagan Argentum.”  
  
“No...n-no...you're...this is...I can't...” Prompto turns for the door but Ignis is behind him, blocking his escape, “Please. Please let me go!”

 

“I'm afraid we can't.” Ignis sighs, regret obvious in his face, “Prompto, we cannot begin to understand how hard this is for you but-”

 

“Your mother and father are scientists, they worked for the crown for decades. Unable to have their own children I allowed them to adopt you. We couldn't simply leave you there, the gods only know what they would have turned you into. Prompto, I wouldn't be telling you this unless it was of the utmost importance. Please, listen.”

 

Prompto hesitates, eyes flicking around the room as if he could find another escape route until finally he takes a breath and turns back to Cor. His blue eyes are dark and he strips the band from his wrist, dropping it to the desk. “This...this was them, wasn't it?” He asks, voice cracking painfully as tears fill his eyes but do not fall, “I'm...I-I'm a monster...”

 

“No...no Prompto, you're not. You're a Lucian citizen by all accounts, only your circumstances are different, that's all.”

 

Prompto sniffs, wiping his eyes on his wrist, turning away as he takes a breath, “You want me to go back? To...to help get Noct?”

 

“That is why we brought you here.” Ignis mutters, unable to help the weight of guilt sitting in his gut, “I'm so sorry, Prompto. If there were another way then we would not ask you to do this.”

 

“I...I've got no training...I'm just a civilian...why? Why me?”

 

“You would not be going alone,” Ignis says, causing Cor to raise an eyebrow, “Gladio and I would go with you.”

 

Prompto looks at Ignis, “I saw what they did to him. It was all over the TV...” He whispers, “I...I'll help...I mean, I won't be very good but...but I can't just sit there and do nothing while they...hurt him. He's my best friend...my only friend.”

 

“Then you'll do it?” Cor asks, standing up and leaning his hands on the desk, “The crown will forever be in your debt.”

 

“I...I'll do it but I need some kinda training...”

 

“We can help you with that.” Cor assures him, smiling a little, “And, I'm sorry you had to find out this way.”

 

“Well, I guess it could'a been worse, yeah?” Prompto tries to smile but it's not his usual sunny expression, there's something darker twisting behind it now. Rather than asking more questions however, he shoves it all aside to be dealt with later. Right now he is in a position to help Noct, that was all that mattered.

 

He is running through corridors, the sounds of an alarm blaring through the halls. He clutches a rifle in sweaty hands, sliding around a corner and couching it against his shoulder. Several MT's stand at the end, Noctis opens fire. The recoil jolts his shoulder and he takes a shaky step back, fighting off the fatigue that plagues him with every step. Sweat runs down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision. He lifts an arm and wipes it away before running on again, leaping over the broken bodies and bending to snatch up a spare gun. He runs on, panting, his ribs and lungs aching almost beyond endurance but he goes on. He has to find a way out. He has to escape because no one is coming for him. Finally he's forced to stop, bending over, clutching at the wall as he catches his breath, hot air wheezing from his lungs as he spits and wipes a hand across his mouth. When he's recovered and the grey has faded from his sight he moves on, more warily this time as he takes a random right turn. There is no map of the place, he's running on instinct. He only hopes that soon he'll get some sign that he's close to the exit. He rounds another corner to find more MT's, there's no end to them as he opens fire, gritting his teeth as agony jolts through his entire body. When his enemies lie twitching at his feet he stumbles onward, using the wall to hold himself up. He's panting, gasping in air and his eyesight is blurred by tears of pain and fatigue. He has no magic, no access to weapons other than what he's picking up. He's no expert gunman but he's had some training, he hopes it's enough. He managed to scrounge some clothes from a locker some poor soul had left open, just a black t-shirt and black trousers but it's better than nothing. It affords him some small sense of self again. His feet are bare, however, they ache as they come into contact with the frozen metal floors but he keeps going anyway, pushing through his agony. He will either escape or die trying, at least this way he can say he tried.  
  
Eventually, after running through endless corridors he runs out of bullets. He tosses the guns aside and snatches up a dropped axe, using it to smash through the three MT's in his way before running on again. He he skids to a halt, gasping, sweating and shaking as he turns around to check behind him. He sees at least ten MT's marching carelessly over their fallen to get to him. Noctis swallows back bile and turns away, running onward. He comes to a set of stairs leading down and takes them, almost falling several times before he reaches the bottom. The Axe seems inordinately heavy in his grasp as he spots another group of enemies before him. He adjusts his grip, baring his teeth and takes a running jump, axe lifted high above his head and a cracked scream of defiance on his lips. He smashes it into the chest of one, yanking it free and spinning around on one foot. He cuts off the head of another, grunting as something hits him in the leg. He stumbles, turning and slamming the butt of the axe into the one that hit him. It goes down like it's brethren. Noctis gasps, shuffling on as he tries to regain his breath but his ribs burn, his muscles cramp. He doesn't have much left but he has to keep going, he has no choice.  
  
Noctis has no idea how long he's been running through the Keep, he barely even remembers his initial escape. He had taken the opportunity as they were escorting him back to his cell. The chains he had broken against one of the MT's weapons, freeing his wrists long enough to grab a weapon. After that it was a blur of fighting. He had run and found himself in what appeared to be some sort of staff locker room, it had been easy enough to find the clothes there. Now he's running for his life, he knows that this could be what ends up tipping the scales and if he's caught he will die. He stumbles on, axe dragging behind him as he's unable to hold it up any more. His vision is turning red around the edges but he doesn't stop. At this point, only death or unconsciousness will stop him. He wants to go home, he wants to see his dad, Ignis, Gladio and Prompto. He has to hear their voices one last time. He chokes on a sob of exhaustion, falling to his knees as the axe clatters to the floor at his side. He's trembling with exertion, his muscles weak, his mind foggy...but he has to go on. So he forces himself back up, lifts his head and grits his teeth. He _will_ survive.

 

Noctis finally finds himself in what appears to be some sort of warehouse, it's filled with bipedal mechs of different sizes. He makes his slow way through until he sees a door. An open door. Noctis' eyes widen as adrenaline courses through his system, he's made it. He can see that beyond the door is sunlight; cold, wintry sunlight and a fresh breeze blows against his cheeks. He starts to run, his feet pounding against the floor as he speeds up until his toes meet with frozen snow. He flies out onto a snowy road that cuts through an industrial part of the city. But to Noctis it is the most beautiful sight. He takes a deep breath and walks on, eyes on the grey sky as he revels in his freedom. Behind him the sirens wail, alerting the entire keep to his escape and Noctis is soon forced to run again, his feet skidding over icy patches of tarmac. He trips, stumbles and falls but forces himself back up again and again. He glances back over his shoulder at the dwindling door way and grins grimly to himself, but when he looks back ahead he sees a figure through the snow. The weak sunlight glints off of metal, he can see the glowing purple eyes as the figure takes a running leap towards him. Noctis manages to duck and roll to avoid the impact of Glauca's fist but rising to his feet takes too long, he stumbles upright, lifting the axe but it's too little too late as a fist connects with his jaw. Noctis is sent sprawling back into the snow, the impact making his head spin and stunning him. He lies still, swallowing blood that fills his mouth from a split lip and loose tooth. Glauca stoops and snatches up his t-shirt, dragging Noctis closer. Noctis' vision wavers but he gathers what little strength he has and grips Glauca's wrists in his own hands. He bares bloody teeth and at him and kicks at the snow, trying to gain some purchase but Glauca is too strong and Noctis has been imprisoned for too long. Glauca's fist connects with the bridge of Noctis' nose, breaking it. He hears the crack echo through his head, it rips the last of the air from his lungs and he goes limp; hands falling uselessly to his sides as Glauca drags him upright again. He tastes metal and salt, it drips down his ruined face and the back of his throat as Glauca punches him again, causing something to crack in his cheek. Agony lances through his head, forcing a weak cry from his lips before he's dropped back to the ground.   
  
Noctis' blood stains the snow around him as he lies there, staring up at a sky he knows he will never see again. He closes his eyes and sinks into darkness.  
  
“My, my what a daring escape attempt your highness.”

 

Noctis groans as the voice reaches his ears, he shifts against the hard cot and scratchy blankets. His eyes slowly flicker open and he finds himself looking up at the tall, shadowy figure of the Chancellor. The man grins down at him, removing his hat and offering him a mocking bow. “I was rather impressed if I'm honest, no one expected you to risk everything like that. Bravo, my boy. Unfortunately it was all futile.” The man strides closer, peering down into Noctis' horribly bruised face, his nose has been reset and bandaged but there's bruising around his eyes and his lip is swollen. His hands and feet are bruised and lacerated, his body shivering and teeth chattering violently. “Ah, it appears you have a fever,” The man sighs, fingers brushing Noctis' forehead, “How unfortunate. Truly, I admire your gumption. To think that the Emperor underestimated you badly enough to allow you to attempt escape, he's very angry.” The Chancellor grins as if it is the best news he's had all day, “However, I do not intend to make that mistake. I think it a shame that Glauca was so brutal, such a pretty face should never be covered in bruises.” The man reaches out, wiping away a smear of dried blood from his cheek, “Oh, I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name is Ardyn. Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim.” He straightens and sets his hat back upon his head, offering Noctis a wink, “I'm sure we will get to know each other much more intimately, your highness. For now, rest. I doubt dear Iedolas will let you have such an opportunity again, not after your escapades.”

 

Noctis watches him leave, the door banging shut behind him. He lies back and closes his eyes, breathing through his mouth since his nose is so bashed up. He grits his teeth, hands curling into fists as he fights a tickle in his chest, his breath rattles and finally he's forced to cough. His ribs ache with each exhalation, he winces as he rolls over onto his side and spits bloody phlegm to the floor. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before letting it fall back to his side. It hurts to breathe, his heart thudding rapidly against his chest despite the fact that all he's doing is lying still. His breath only comes in rapid little gasps and he can feel sweat soaking his bed clothes. He shivers violently, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder in an attempt to keep warm but it doesn't help. He blinks sluggishly, shivering and huddled up in the freezing room before finally sleep takes him and drags him down, down into darkness.

 

“ _He's sick_...”

 

“ _What's wrong with him, doctor_?”

 

“ _Oh it's just...fever, cough...He'll be fine after we administer some antibiotics..._ ”

 

Noctis lays still, feigning sleep as he listens to the people bustle around him. He's aware of them in a detached sort of way, their voices floating in and out like a badly tuned radio. The burning in his chest is familiar and brings back childhood memories. He got ill a lot as a child, whenever there was a bout of flu going around Noctis would catch it. He would be bed ridden for days, and he should have hated it but it was one of the only times his father would come to him, he would sit and read stories to him; his smile kind and gentle. Noctis treasures those memories more than his father could ever know. And now as he lies in the cold bed, shivering and sweating, he uses those memories to comfort himself.

 

“ _Good evening Noctis, how are you feeling?”_  
  
Noctis looks up from the book in his hands, his father stands in the door way to his bedroom and Noctis smiles, “I'm better but they won't let me out of bed just yet,”

 

“ _Ah I see, well then, perhaps a story will help?”_

 

_Noctis beams at his dad as he enters the room and closes the door softly behind him, shutting out the guards who wait outside. He seats himself in the comfy chair by Noctis' bed, “Now then, what story do you want today?”_

 

“ _Tell me about the time you went to Altissia again!” Noctis asks eagerly._

 

_Regis smiles indulgently, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair, “Of course, now then settle down and we will begin,” Noctis does as he's asked, smiling up at his dad with shining eyes, “It was a long time ago now, back when I was much younger. You see your grandfather had asked me to attempt to reach out to Altissia for aid, so I went along with my closest companions...”_

 

 _Noctis' eyes began to close to the soothing sound of his father's voice, he allows the familiar weight of his hand in his own to comfort him as he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep..._  
  
It hurts when he wakes. His body burning, his mouth painfully dry. He groans, eyes flickering open to reveal a metal ceiling he, at first, does not recognise. His thoughts catch up slowly until finally he remembers that he's in the hands of the enemy. He turns his head to see that someone has hooked him up to some kind of drip, beside him is an unused chair. Weakly Noctis reaches out to touch it, finding it still warm. A book lies upon the seat, a page marked as if someone had left only recently. Noctis coughs, the sound loud in the still room. He groans as his chest pains him, his hand rubbing at his ribs as if that would help. He sighs, looking back towards the book and trying to read the title. As he's tilting his head at an awkward angle the door of his cell opens to reveal Ardyn, Noctis shies away as the man draws close and inspects him curiously before offering him a smarmy grin.   
  
“Ah, your highness is awake! How are you feeling?” Noctis can only shake his head, unable to trust his voice, “Yes, yes of course, you must be dying of thirst.” Ardyn moves and retrieves a glass of water from a table that Noctis is certain wasn't there before, “Here, sit up so you can drink,” Noctis tries to force himself upright but his arms are just too weak to hold his weight, instead Ardyn helps him with one arm around his shoulders. Noctis can't help but notice how he smells of some sort of cloying incense, like smoke and something bitter. He drinks when Ardyn holds the glass to his lips, “There's a good boy,” Ardyn mutters, helping Noctis to lie back down afterwards, “Now then, you've been unconscious for some days now. You've had the Emperor in a fit of worry, he was so very excited to punish you for your attempted escape.” Ardyn smiles, eyes roving over Noctis' face and upper body slowly, “You appear to be healing nicely, the Emperor will be pleased.”

 

Noctis licks his lips, “Why?” He asks, voice little more than a reedy croak.  
  
“Why? One would assume because he has every intention of keeping you alive as long as possible. He's been quite enjoying having you around, your highness.”  
  
Noctis closes his eyes, lifting a hand to rest his forearm over them, “Why won't you just kill me already?” He asks, his voice cracking a little and his teeth clenching, “Why don't you just get it over with here and now, huh? Why draw it out like this?”

 

“Do you wish to die so badly young Noct?” Ardyn asks, dropping any pretence of formality he had, “I don't presume to know the mind of our dearest Emperor but his plans for revenge are indeed extensive. It is not you personally that he intends to destroy, Noct.”  
  
Noctis considers this, forcing his sluggish mind to work over time to try to decipher the meaning behind Ardyn's words. He lowers his arm and looks at the Chancellor, “He's trying to hurt my dad.”   
  
“Hm, I think this goes far beyond a personal grudge dear boy. His goal is much more...lofty than a simple vendetta. Tell me, what would your father give in exchange for his only son and heir?”

 

Noctis wants to say nothing, to convince the Empire that his imprisonment wouldn't gain them a thing, but he knows that his lie would be obvious, “Anything.” He mutters, averting his eyes, “He'd...give anything.”

 

“Indeed! Not as stupid as you look, Noct. Your dear father would give the world to have you safely back in his arms, I'm sure. Especially after watching everything you're going through, eventually it will wear him down enough that he will be willing to listen to any terms to guarantee your safe return.” Ardyn pauses, closing his book and taking his seat, “But alas...Iedolas has his sights set on a mightier prize than what your life will buy.” He sighs heavily, as if regretful, “He wants nothing more than to utterly destroy Lucis, and that includes their young and beautiful prince. He will be ensuring that your execution is witnessed by millions across the world after your father has handed him Lucis on a platter.”

 

Noctis chokes, trying to sit upright only to be pushed back down again, “No...No I...”

 

“Hush now, lie back down or you'll hurt yourself.” Ardyn smiles, eyes flashing amber and gold in the light, “Not to worry, your father is not so old as to be unable to sire more children, Noct. After your tragic death Lucis will no doubt retaliate and unlike our Emperor I have no delusions that we would ever survive such an attack that the King would bring down upon us. Unless...” Ardyn considers the wall thoughtfully as if an idea has just come to him, “Maybe I could persuade the Emperor to stay your execution? After all I am one of his most closest advisors.”

 

“You'd do that? Why?”

 

Ardyn shrugs causally, waving an arm in a vague sort of gesture, “Out of the kindness of my own heart. I would so hate to see such beauty go to waste on the gallows, Noct.” He reaches out, touching two fingers beneath the princes chin and tilting his head back to look at him, “Yes, such a shame.”

 

“You're not gonna do it for free though, right?”

 

“You wound me,” Ardyn places a hand on his heart, eyes wide in a mockery of innocence, “Chancellor I may be but I do have some sense of self preservation. The power of Kings is well known to me, after all. I like my head where it is and have no desire to see it roll across the floor. Of course, you also have a destiny to fulfil, don't you Noct? The words of the Prophecy are known throughout Eos, King of Kings.”

 

Something in Ardyn's eyes makes Noctis' skin crawl as they meet his own, he holds the Chancellor's gaze for as long as he can, neither denying nor confirming the assumption. Ardyn smirks, seemingly satisfied by whatever he has seen in Noctis' face, he settles back in his chair and crosses his legs, opening his book; he begins to read.

 

Noctis' recovery is long and arduous, he is bedridden for as long as his illness endures. Ardyn is the only visitor he receives, Noctis assumes the man is making sure he's as healthy as he can be before the torture resumes. He's not so stupid as to think the Emperor will simply forget about him.  
  
Finally the day comes when they come for him. Noctis sits up in bed, knees to his chest as the door opens and Glauca steps into the room, he's not given a chance to move as cold hands grab at him and haul him from the sheets. He's thrown carelessly to the floor at Iedolas' feet, Glauca puts a boot against the back of his neck to force him into a bow. Noctis is not one hundred percent recovered, his chest still aches but it seems that the doctor or Ardyn has given him the all clear. His back begins to ache at the rough treatment, he winces and bares his teeth as he hears the Emperor's soft footsteps circle his prone form.  
  
“Ah, so you've recovered then,” He says in his smooth, soft voice, “Good, good. Now perhaps I can punish you for your behaviour. You see, in Niflheim we do not allow our dogs to run rampant and do whatever they please. If a dog bites, it must be shown the error of it's ways. Glauca?”

 

The General releases the pressure on Noctis' neck and grabs him, dragging him back to his feet. He's shoved roughly into the centre of the room and forced to stand still. Several MT's hold him as Glauca picks up a rope he seems to have brought with him. The end is thrown up over a beam before it's tied around Noctis' wrists at his back, Noctis lets his head hang, staring at the ground and trying not to panic. His breath rasps in his lungs and he coughs a few times. Then, once the rope has been secured, Glauca starts to pull on his end. Noctis can feel his arms rise slowly, he looks up and sees Aldercapt smirking at him. Noctis grits his teeth, setting his face into as furious a glare as he can possibly make. He tries to lunge forward but the ropes hold him and Glauca keeps pulling until his arms rise uncomfortably above his head. He bites back a grunt as pain lances down them and burns across his shoulders. It's then that he thinks to struggle; too little, too late. The more he moves, the more pressure is exerted on his shoulders. Noctis has no choice but to remain still as he's forced to balance on his toes. The pain is almost unbearable now, tears sting his eyes and he bares his teeth, unwilling to give Aldercapt the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He lets his upper body fall forward as much as he's able, but it does little to help. Glauca continues his steady pull on the rope until Noctis' feet finally leave the floor.   
  
Noctis' breath leaves him in a sudden, violent rush as the burn becomes a sharp stabbing. There's a horrific popping sound and a scream is wrenched from his lips, spittle flying as he struggles uselessly, legs kicking. All his struggles only amount to more agony. His eyes roll, his voice cracks as his cries reach a crescendo and end on a heaving sob.   
  
Aldercapt nods in satisfaction, moving forward to cup Noctis' damp chin, he watches a bead of sweat slide slowly down the side of his face and smiles benignly. “Oh how low has the son of Lucis fallen, hmm? Perhaps some time to reflect upon your actions? Glauca, tie off the ropes; I believe I have a formal dinner to attend.”

 

Glauca does as ordered, walking past Noctis' limp body. Soon Noctis is alone, the only sound his own heaving, rasping breaths. He can only watch the floor, several inches below his twitching feet as his sweat drips and stains the metal.  
Noctis has no idea how long he's left there but it feels like months. When his captors return and he's let down he has no strength left to struggle, he's as limp as a rag doll as Glauca lifts him almost gently in his arms and lays him on the bed. Noctis can only stare blankly up at the ceiling, his chest heaving, his arms and upper back utterly numb. A few errant tears escape the corners of his eyes and slide down his cheeks. Glauca grips one of his shoulders, causing Noctis to groan weakly, he would have screamed but he lost his voice some time ago. Fingers dig deep into the swollen muscle, causing Noctis to choke on a broken cry, he tries to move away but that only makes it hurt worse. Glauca takes hold of Noctis' elbow and wrist, gripping firmly. Noctis' lips purse as he tries to hold back a scream, he scrunches his eyes shut as Glauca begins to pull steadily. The pain is so great Noctis starts to see darkness swimming around the edges of his vision, he bites back a curse as suddenly his dislocated shoulder makes a second popping sound as it returns to it's former place. Noctis gasps in a deep lungful of air as the pain recedes, he blinks away stray tears and turns his head away as Glauca moves to repeat the manoeuvre on his other arm.  
  
After that Noctis was starved. He was allowed water but not a single iota of food passes his lips. His shoulders remain bruised and swollen for days afterwards. Every day he is forced to his knees before the emperor, head to the floor before Glauca has MT's drag a bucket of ice water into the room along with the camera. He is held facing the little red eye before Glauca forces his head into the bucket. He's held there until his lungs burn, until he has no choice but to try and breathe. Glauca drags him out again, sputtering, coughing and then it happens again and again and again. Before Noctis knows it he has fainted in a pool of his own bile and water. He's brought around again, the process repeated until he loses consciousness. Over and over until Noctis wonders if this is to be the method of his execution, if Ardyn had failed to hold it off or even lied. Finally Glauca leaves him there, lying in his own mess, breath rattling in his lungs, occasionally coughing weakly as he gazes blankly across the room and waits for unconsciousness.   
  
Noctis falls into a daze. The days blur into one long nightmare, his mind unable to take the strain of his situation. He feels as if he's left his body, merely a spectator as these men beat him and degrade him. His perception is fuzzy, like someone has tuned the radio wrong inside his head. He doesn't feel real anymore and a part of him knows that really it's a blessing. When Glauca comes Noctis is too weak to fight, he is dragged off of the bed and forced to bow again and he doesn't bother resisting. He watches, an outsider in his own head, as Glauca lifts a metal rod with a burning end and presses it deep into the muscle of his chest. Even Noctis' own screams sound muffled, the feel of his tears on his cheeks are vague and strange. He's let go, falling to the floor with a choked sob. He lies where he's left, eyes half-closed, his chest burning and burning like there's fire working it's way deep into his flesh. He can smell it, but his mind recoils from it. It smells like roast pork, like something Ignis would make him. The idea forces his stomach to twist unpleasantly, acid burning up his throat. He swallows it back and closes his eyes, he doesn't want to know what the brand is so he doesn't look.  
  
He's stripped naked again. He's thrown roughly to the floor, forced onto all fours with his head bowed. He stares blankly down between his splayed fingers as Glauca circles him like a wolf stalking its prey. A metal finger traces the scar on his back, the touch causing Noctis to squirm until a boot comes down hard on the back of his head, smashing his forehead into the floor. Noctis grunts in pain but obeys the silent command and goes still. His arms hurt, his shoulder's still not healed enough to be comfortable. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. Glauca paces a while, lulling Noctis into a false sense of security until a heavy metal boot comes down hard on his knuckles. Noctis screams as pain lances through the last three fingers of his left hand. He tries to snatch his hand away, to cradle it against his chest but Glauca grabs his wrist and holds him still, Noctis lowers his head and lets a few more tears fall. Idly he wonders if one day he'll just run out.  
  
More time passes, Noctis is now constantly in pain. His entire body aches and throbs, he's bruised, his fingers swollen, his head throbbing. He lies on the floor, Glauca having just finished giving him yet another vicious beating. The general drags him up again, lifting his limp body to drop him back on the bed. Noctis stares mindlessly up at the ceiling, blood dripping from his lips and a large cut in his side. Glauca pushes his metal fingers deep into the wound managing to elicit a weak little sob from the half-conscious prince, he digs deeper until Noctis chokes on a plea. His eyes close and he lets his head fall to the side, Glauca huffs what could have been a laugh as he rises and walks to the door. He's left alone again, someone switches off the lights and plunges Noctis into darkness.

 

Eventually Noctis finds himself unable to tell hallucination from reality, he begins to see things in his cell. It starts simply enough, a flash of colour out the corner of his eye as blood bursts from his lips from a swing of Glauca's huge fists. Sometimes it's a pale glow, like a dim white light. Other times its a deep crimson, like two eyes staring at him hungrily from the darkness of his cell. He hears the patter of tiny feet on metal, the scrape of claws against the floor outside his cell and sometimes a low, menacing growl or low whimper. Noctis curls up on himself and tries to ignore it. Then it evolves, he begins to see a woman who's vaguely familiar. She's got a fall of dark hair that hangs into her deep blue eyes, eyes very much like his own. She sits on his bed and touches his head with a tenderness Noctis only felt from his father, these hallucinations make him weep silently into the slim pillow. The woman smiles at him, her appearance is usually a comfort so he doesn't try to fight them. It gets worse when Glauca is gone and he's alone in the silence of the cell. He hears his father's voice, somewhat faded but seeming very real. He's not sure what it's saying but he catches his name in there and wishes he had the strength to get up and follow it. One time he hears another voice, this one he's certain isn't speaking the same language. It's terribly deep, it seems to shake him to his core and makes his head throb. Luckily this one only comes once and Noctis is glad.  
  
So, when he hears another familiar set of voices he dismisses it and curls up where he lies in the corner of his cell. He's chained to the wall, arms outstretched, his chest a mess of bloody lines from a knife Glauca had taken too much pleasure in wielding. He's too weak to lift his head and finds himself distantly irritated that these voices, hushed as they are, won't let him sleep. When the cell door opens Noctis can't help the whimper that escapes him. His wounds are still fresh from the beating, his cuts still weeping crimson. He shies away from the MT's outstretched hand and cries out, flinching as if he's going to be hit again. Words escape his bloodied lips, a rapid succession of pleas for mercy and enough, oh gods please enough...make it stop...go away...

 

“Noct...”

 

Go away. Go away. No more, please. I'll tell you anything. Leave me alone.  
  
“Noct, buddy, it's me. I'm here to rescue you.”

 

Noctis recognises that voice and it makes him pause, slowly he opens his eyes and surveys the MT before him. He swallows blood and saliva, tongue darting out to wet his lips before speaking, “Li'l shor'...for a...a...MT...” He whispers hoarsely, a single tear sliding down his cheek. The MT lifts its shaking hand to wipe it gently away.  
  
“Oh, sorry,” It lifts its hands and pulls off it's strange, expressionless mask.   
  
Noctis blinks, “Prompto?” He mutters, voice thick and slurred, “'M I...dead yet?”

 

Prompto looks pale, he's got dark shadows beneath his eyes as if he hasn't had a whole lot of sleep, “No buddy, we're here to get you outta here.” He says, forcing a grin, “You look like shit.”  
  
“Hey, hurry it up in there.”  
  
“Hey, Gladio, I'm gonna need something to cut these chains...”

 

Noctis' head falls forward, he doesn't have the strength to lift it anymore, “Gladio's here?” He asks weakly.  
  
“Yeah, I'm here Noct.”  
  
A strong, familiar hand grasps his upper arm, fingers gentle and Noctis can't help but find some strength to lift his head. He's there, as large as ever with an expression Noctis isn't used to seeing on his face. It looks like sympathy. “Why?” He asks as Gladio starts to work on the locks of his manacles.

  
“Why? Noct, we're here to rescue you.” Prompto repeats, concern painting his freckled face as he leans in close, “Noct?”

 

“No...No...you're jus'...you're not...get off of me! It's not...not real! G-Get off!” Noctis thrashes violently, screaming until Gladio clamps a firm hand down over his mouth.

 

“Noct! Calm down! It's us. We're real. I promise you we'll get you outta here. Iggy's outside the door keeping watch, just shut up and let us help.”  
  
Finally Gladio releases him from his chains, he reaches down and scoops Noctis up like a child. Noctis is suddenly hit by a scent, one that's so familiar yet so foreign he's forgotten what it was. A desperate, choked sob escapes his throat as he turns his head and buries it against Gladio's chest, it was real. They were here. Gladio, Prompto and Ignis. He was going to be free. Noctis lets Gladio carry him out the door and he sees Ignis waving them on, pressing a finger to his lips as they move. Prompto puts his mask back on and runs forward, Noctis closes his eyes and lets himself relax against Gladio. He is going home, he's safe.   
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I hate the ending. I'm so sorry. :/


End file.
